always keep coming for more

As she found dandelion and bent, plucking it between her teeth and shoving it into the little pocket on her axe-band, she heard Viðarr call -- and she threw her head back, giving one in response. Her return-call was deep, throaty, strong-- but more than anything, it was jovial, delighted. This was a good day, after all, and Bylgja had no reason to tuck her tail and sulk. The landscape is stark, but the sun shines, and the sky is wonderful to behold. It's warm, on her coat. She shakes out her fur and gets to jogging towards the source of Viðarr's call, her head high, her step jaunty.

When she sees him, she gives a hearty holler: "Konungr!" Delighted. Her tail wags, and she picks up speed, bounding to him with a sure-footed grace. As she does, her axe, new, glints at her side. The wood has been carved with more runes, and blue dye smeared into the wooden handle. The runes on the blade are still unadorned with color, but Bylgja hasn't found the right color yet, is all.

"Glorious day, by the Gods!" Her voice is bright, loud, exuberant. "I'm here!" She almost asked if he wanted to walk and talk, or hunt with her, but first, Bylgja wanted to see if he had a reason for the summons.